


Winter's Child

by Denstort



Category: Muse
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:09:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denstort/pseuds/Denstort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Eulogy"- Dom remembers a special place............</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Child

I opened the curtains and it was the sun on the frost that got me. You used to like mornings like this. In fact it was a day like this that we buried you…and I get the irony.

You would have rung me and cajoled and bugged me until I agreed to go for a walk. You would turn up on my doorstep, me half-buried in a scarf and a hat, and there was you, barefaced and bright-eyed.

You always were a Winter Child.

I’m not complaining; it was fun. You would watch as myself, Chris and Tom would run round with a football, and you would cheer when it turned into an impromptu match, as people stopped and joined in.

Then there would be lunch, the same place, the same table. You were often quiet, just content with listening to the conversation.

Then we’d walk home, through the park, just you and I.

You would stop at the top of the small hill, and look out at the city below.

I often wondered what you were thinking in those moments. Were you thinking of the past, of days when we had none of our adult worries? 

Or were you thinking of the future, what was to come?

Was new music and songs forming in that chaotic and brilliant mind? Or were you thinking anything at all….just enjoying the winter sun.

I never plucked up the courage to ask you…you looked so peaceful and untroubled.

Then you would sigh and turn away, a sad look in your eyes; almost like you were coming back to a world you didn’t want to face.

Then you would smile and laugh and we would continue walking.

I forget how many times we walked up that hill…how many times you stared into nothing, but that doesn’t matter.

I step out of my house, the chill hitting me. I shiver and pull my scarf tighter.

It’s not that far to the park, but it feel like the Grand Canyon…which I loved. You always said I was a Summer Son.

The wind bit at me as I walked up that small hill and stopped; just like you had.

It didn’t seem like five years….five years to the day we’d taken that last walk. You were so frail, yet you refused to stop or let me help you…always stubborn.

I looked out at the city, letting the winter sun warm me, and I let silent tears fall.

I’m sure I can hear your laugh…

Matt, you always were and will be a Winter Child to my Summer Son.


End file.
